


A Collection of Baby Fics

by PostApocolypticAlien



Category: The X-Files
Genre: 3am writings...probably...most likely, Gen, Post-Episodes, Time Travel, a collection of wee baby fics, emily au, i do nothing to help situations, i just make them worse, periods are hell, post hijacking, stolen headcanons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2020-09-27 22:17:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 7,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20415208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PostApocolypticAlien/pseuds/PostApocolypticAlien
Summary: Just a place I'm planning on chucking all my fics that are under like 300 words or so and therefore dubbed as "wee baby fics". It's just going to be a collection of unrelated ideas that I've either hijacked from someone's post or dragged from the dregs of my own brain at 3 in the morning.





	1. Whisper Only They Can Hear

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I hijacked a while back and I couldn't find a place for it until now. "We know that when Mulder and Scully took a plane to go home after Irresistible Scully fell asleep on his shoulder with their hands clasped together." Stolen headcanon.

He gives up his ability to stretch out across the seats, instead jumping across the aisle to sit next to her.

They say nothing.

She’d been a wreck all morning; tired and grouchy. Fumbling with the zips and locks on her bags. Mulder never thought he’d see the day he’d be ready to head off before her. Twice they had to venture back to the motel because she’d forgotten one thing or another. He didn’t complain. Wordlessly, he turned the car around and drove back, silently marvelling to himself at how unscullylike it all was.

But he knew the reason.

She was too preoccupied with the events of last night. She wasn’t here, wasn’t in this car; she was at that house. Like she’d been all night.

She remained quiet at the airport, too. They barely spoke aside from the brief question of whether she wanted coffee or not when it turned out they’re flight had been slightly delayed.

I just want to go home, is all she’d said in reply.

The guilt gnaws at him. 

It’s useless and futile, and he fights to bat it away. It’s not his fault, no matter how much the chemicals inside him tell him it is. It happened. It’s something they- Scully- has to live with and move on from. But while she’ll be right as rain in a few days, Mulder knows he won’t be as grand.

He glances over to her now, turned away from him, from everyone, head resting against the plastic surrounding the window, and stares.

It’s so different. So unscully. she’d normally be there, typing away at her reports, distracting herself from that fact that she was currently sitting on a plane.

But even she knows she’ll just get distracted during the distraction.

His eyes fall down to the seat, to where her hand sits limply against it, fingernails slightly picking at the skin around her nail.

He knows the thought that’s just entered his head will most likely get him thrown off the plane but that wild side wants to chance it. It’s for her comfort, after all, to show that he’s here and he knows.  
Trust me, he wills her to hear.

With one last nervous glance upwards, he slips his hand into hers, holding his breath and watching.

She reacts. He sees a million different thoughts enter and pass through, each one being given consideration, debating the pros and cons of each.

And Mulder prays to whoever that she doesn’t push him away, doesn’t close herself off.

And she doesn’t. She relaxes, her hand tightening around his.

So unscullylike.

They don’t vocally acknowledge what is happening. You can’t even see their hands embraced. It’s just a little thing between them. A whisper only they can hear.

They don’t let go for the entire journey back. 

And later, when her head has fallen against his shoulder in sleep, her grip is still as tight.  
He gives up his ability to stretch out across the seats, to marvel at how unscullylike she is.


	2. Cramps Aren't Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On some months, the physical pain is even worse than the emotional.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Periods :) I was projecting when I wrote this. Another one of those wrote at 3am. With a water bottle on my stomach and my laptop resting against it.

Every period stings. A monthly reminder of something she’ll never have. A futile chore. A subscription she has no reason to have anymore.

But sometimes, the physical pain can be worse than the emotional.

On these days, she has no time to think about babies she’ll never bear.

On these days, Mulder lingers by the edges. Disappears when he’s told to, doesn’t argue and does things first time. And he never ever touches her.

Pain brings irritation. Irritation brings restlessness. And it all accumulates into snappiness.

She’ll shift in her seat, attempt to create some sort of pressure onto your abdomen, even debates lying on her stomach to ease the pain.

It’s worse at night. When the cramps come then she’ll throw herself around next to him; tossing from her back to her stomach to her side. Huffs and puffs as she gives up, frustration seeping in. All she wants to do is sleep.

It’s these nights that’ll Mulder will help out. She doesn’t ask. She’ll never ask. His Scully fights her battles alone, a belief that it’s hers alone to deal with, and hers only.

But he doesn’t miss the curious look in her eyes as he climbs out of the bed wordlessly and disappears off towards the kitchen. The first night cramps had crept up on her in their early bed-sharing days, she thought he was moving to sleep somewhere else like so many before her had done. She felt guilty for that, like she should’ve just taken some pain relief and that be that. But sometimes pills aren’t enough to dull the pain.

That curious look quickly changed to relief when he returned, a water bottle in his hand. She didn’t even know he kept one but wherever he found it she didn’t care, it was warm and it was enough.

So he climbs back into bed as she gets settled, mindful to keep the distance between them because so god help him if he dares touch her, a saviour with a water bottle or no.

The only part of him that can have any contact with her is his hand to her hair. Whether she be ill or bleeding, sore or hurt, his fingers in her hair is the only constant. But it has to be light. Barely there but enough to lull her to sleep so it doesn’t irritate her. Menstruating Scully comes with a lot of rules and you don’t want to break them.


	3. Want vs. Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during Trustno1- The angst is not relieved and is arguably worse actually.  
I didn't say I helped these things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry.

A chilly breeze blows but she barely feels it against her. She shivers as an afterthought, something that she should be doing, but her mind is too preoccupied to worry about the weather.

In the shadows, Doggett and Reyes stand on guard watching out for the man on the phone or just any man, Scully doesn’t know. Like the wind, they’re not really there.

Her eyes stay focused on the track in the distance, the first bloom of the hopeful headlights of a train, the expectant sound approaching nearer with each roll of the wheels. 

There are no times on the station, no sign to indicate whether the train be arriving on time or late. Scully lost count of how long she’s been standing here for; it could have been hours or simply just minutes. The only number she can occupy right now is 12. Midnight. That’s when the trains here. That’s when she’ll get to see him finally.

It’s a constant flick of her wrist, eyes falling down to check the time. It moves slowly when you’re expecting something, every second passes agonising slow, you feel it then- how slow it really is.

When her watch tells her it’s one minute past twelve, the rational mind jumps in. Logical explanations as to why the train isn’t here rush through her mind: It’s just delayed, trains are always delayed…Any second it’ll be coming round the corner right now.

When the watch falls to ten past twelve she has less and less hope.   
Behind her, Doggett and Reyes have grown restless too, fidgeting in the corner, weary from the long day it’s turned out to be. She looks towards them, perhaps seeing them for the first time since they got here, and wills them to stay, to wait. He’ll be here, she silently promises them. I need him to be.

And maybe that’s where she’s always gone wrong. 

Turning her head towards the empty darkness, defeat and realisation setting in, she’s always needed. Mulder would want. I want to believe. It was never ‘I need to believe’ or ‘I believe’ no, that’s too simple, too straight forward. Wanting something gives it balance, room to fall one way or the other. Need is persistent, the right-answer-or-no-answer-at-all, there’s no room for other possibilities.

It’s them, really. Or at least in the early days it was.

She needed to be right.

He wanted to be.

Makes sense it’ll always be like that.

“Dana…”

Reyes’ touch startles her slightly, the other woman’s hand patting her arm. Scully knows what she’s going to say, can see it written across her face the pity and the apologies though she has nothing to apologise for.

“He’s not coming,” Scully says. It’s a fact rather than a question and she doesn’t bother to look down at her watch for the time. Trains are never this late.

Reyes softly shakes her head.

Scully nods, willing herself to accept the fact. She breathes in and exhales deeply, forcing herself to not look out to the tracks, to not hope that the train is just delayed.


	4. Kiss Away The Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Frangipanidownunder: "First Kiss" from the Kiss Prompts. Six year old Scully falls off her bike but Mulder is there to make it better...kind of...Let's be honest, the cookie makes it better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps not what was intended when I was sent this but I wanted to do something a bit different then the standard kiss first ideas and this is what I came up with.

He peddles faster, hearing Scully not too far behind him, her shadow and outline of her own bike right next to him.

Mulder frowns in concentration, legs pushing harder as he tries to gain more speed. He won’t be beaten by a stupid girl, he tells himself. He wants the cookie.

They had agreed to race around the park after they found the last cookie in the box. They both had had two each already so Mulder had suggested that they race. Three laps around the park and the first first one to finish at the picnic table won the cookie.

He wanted that cookie.

Mulder turns the bike sharply at the corner. He was nearly there, that cookie was his.

Until he heard something skid and a crash behind him followed by an extremely loud cry.

Mulder slams on his breaks. He turns to see Scully on the floor, the front wheel of her bike stuck in the black railed fence and tears falling down her face.

She had fallen at the corner.

Worry running through him, he abandons his own bike, letting it fall onto the gravel and runs towards his friend.

He kneels before her and looks down to her knee, the reason for her tears. His eyes widen at the sight of the big hole there, and all the blood that covers it.

“It’s okay, Scully,” he reassures. He checks his pockets- Mommy always made him carry band aids with him because he was always falling over and hurting himself, but when he checks his pockets, he finds them empty.

Scully sniffs, wiping the snot from around her nose with her hand. “It hurts,” she tells him and Mulder pouts, unsure what to do.

He thinks for a moment, scrunching his face in a way that usually makes Scully laugh. It works, a little giggle falling out of her mouth as an idea hits him.

He puts a hand near Scully’s knee and she flinches a little.

“It’s okay,” he says. “This will make it better, promise.”

Scully relaxes a little, frowning as she watches Mulder bring his face towards her knee. 

His lips touch the skin just below the cut. He brings his face away, a big smile plastered on his face as he reviews his work- a sloppy dollop of salvia sits on her knee.

“Better?” he asks, looking at Scully.

Scully frowns, shaking her head, more tears falling from her eyes. 

“No!” she cries. “I want a band aid.”

Mulder shrugs, he tried. 

“You can have the last cookie,” Mulder suggests in a way to make up for not having a band aid on him. 

Scully’s eyes widen as she nods her head furiously. Mulder smiles, grabbing her arm and helping her up.

“Only cause you can’t ride a bike, though.” He feels a light thud against his arm at that and he laughs, going to pick up Scully’s bike from where it’s still wedged in the railing.


	5. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Ep Existence. Canon divergence. Mulder decides to stay rather than going into hiding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a ball of creative juice this week apparently.

The heat from the fire warms him. The room cast in an orange glow from the lamps and candles soothes him. The smell that undoubtedly belongs to Scully calms him.

And the weighty bundle in his arms fills him with nothing but love.

Finally, everything can stop, slow down, and he can just bask in this; bask in this stillness. 

Scully pads back into the living room, her bare feet barely making any noise against the floorboards as she walks towards the couch. Mulder knows he’ll have to give the baby back to her soon but he just can’t find it within himself to hand him to her.

“I don’t want to put him down,” he says aloud, his eyes glued on William’s sleeping face.

He had settled down not soon after Mulder had first held him, snuggled in the blanket in Mulder’s arms against Mulder’s chest. It had made him so happy, so completely overfilled with joy to know that little baby Will seemed to trust him enough to fall asleep against him.

Scully sits down on the seat beside him. “You can’t hog him all night, your arms will get tired.”

He takes his gaze away from William then to look at Scully and finds her also staring down at Will, a smile- not unlike the one she had been wearing when he first saw her- plastered across her face.

She notices him looking and looks towards him. He smiles and she smiles back.

They hold each other’s gaze until Will starts squirming in his arms, his little face bunching up, mouth opening and closing.

“He’s hungry,” he hears Scully saying. She reaches over, taking William out of his arms and suddenly Mulder feels lost, the weight he’d been holding for so long suddenly gone from him.

So he watches Scully and when Will has latched on and everyone’s comfortable, he replaces the missing William weight with Scully’s weight, cradling them both against him.

As he watches, he’s overcome with a tremendous amount of guilt. He almost lost both of them and through some miraculous stroke of luck everything had gone to plan but still, the guilt gnawed at him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers atop of her head.

Instantly, Scully is shifting, turning in his arms, trying not to jostle Will.

“What are you sorry for?” she asks.

Mulder shrugs, unable to find the words to use. “For everything,” he says as a poor substitute.

She moves, facing away from him again. 

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” she says. “We’re safe, all of us.”

And maybe in this orange-glowing apartment they could kid themselves that they were, at least for this one moment.

Silence falls between them, the only sound Will’s contented suckling and Scully’s sighs as she relaxes more into Mulder.

And now, Mulder’s made up his mind, perhaps he’d even made it up before this moment but it’s this moment alone, this contented feeling, this little family in his arms that becomes the deciding factor.

“I’m not leaving,” he says. He feels Scully stiffen, knows she’s already began thinking of the repercussions his staying will have.

“But we said—”

He cuts her off with a firm, “I don’t care what we said. I don’t want to miss any more moments.” He grips the two of them tighter, a physical statement to his words. “I’ve already missed too much.”


	6. Don't Die, Please Don't Die/ I Said That Out Loud?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Anon on Tumblr. Exactly as the title says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is part of a bigger fic I'm debating writing but I'm currently too scared to lol.

I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.

“Mulder…”

He looks over, sees her laying on a bench identical to the ones he lays on. 

The truck hits a pothole in the road, sending Mulder jostling about. He winces, clutching at the deep cut on his side, his hand bloody.

Scully moans, her gunshot wound having no doubt been jostled as well.

“I love you, too…” she finally says.

I said that out loud, Mulder thinks so weak that he can’t even tell the difference between the thoughts in his head and his voice aloud.

She said she loved him back.

How long has he been waiting to hear those words?

He allows them to warm him up, rid the cold he feels throughout his dying body, to comfort him.

Scully groans again and he glances a look over to her, worry replacing that warmth and comfort. 

Her eyes are closed, her skin pale, covered in cuts from her time already spent here, time she spent running after him, looking for him.

He reaches a hand out towards her and even with her eyes closed she senses its presence, interlocking her cold fingers around his.

“You can’t die, Scully,” he says, pleading to her to not go, not to leave him in a world he doesn’t understand yet.

“Please don’t die.”

They had been so close. So close to going home.


	7. I Might Have Had A Few Shots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by @agirlcallednarelle. Same as the title.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started losing it towards the end cause I had to stop and do my online lesson and it just broke up the flow. I should've just skipped the lesson tbf.

It had been a poopy day.

His source, whilst seeming legitimate at the beginning turned out to be nothing more than a joke on the Bureau’s part, a hoax by some smart-ass dick in VSC with too much time on their hands.

Their time and resources wasted and to make matters worse Scully was angry with him about the whole ordeal like he knew it was a game from the start.

He got played just as much as she had.

And that’s how he found himself in a crummy bar ten minutes away from her apartment.

Mulder was going to do down there and apologise (to which he wasn’t sure what exactly he was apologising for- maybe it was just an excuse to see her again) but he had gotten cold feet and came here instead.

It was through his drunken-state mind that he decided to go through with his original plan.

“Scully.”

Mulder smiles at the sound of her voice.

“Hi, Scully,” he slurs.

“Mulder, it’s 2 o’clock in the morning, what do you want?”

You, he thinks and almost says it, too before he somehow stops himself.

“Er…I want to, um…to apologise for…for today.”

There’s a pause, a rustle of sheets, and a wonder of what she’s wearing.

“Mulder, are you drunk?” 

“I might have had a few shots, yeah.”  


Scully sighs. He hears another rustle of sheets and the creak of the bed.

“I’m coming to pick you up. Where are you?” she’s asking.

Mulder thinks for a moment, the name of the bar completely escaping him. He hadn’t looked before going in after all.

“It’s about ten minutes away from your apartment…”  
Another pause. 

“I know the one. Wait for me outside, I’m gonna take you home.”

He waits for her to hang up but she doesn’t and he can hear the sounds of her puttering about.

“Scully…”

“What?”

“I am really sorry about the case.”

Another sigh, and the sound of a door shutting. “It’s not your fault, Mulder. You all seemed legitimate.”

She’s there in about five minutes. Mulder is sat on the curb with his head in his hands, the world spinning, and quite frankly hating everything about his life right now.

About two seconds into the car moving he throws up all he drank on an empty stomach all over Scully’s dashboard.

She says nothing about it. Just gives him a wary smile and squeezes his hand while he murmurs apologies.


	8. Not Another Emily AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully adopts Emily au.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This probably deserves it's own fic but it can live here for now.

It’s snowing when they get back to Washington.

Emily’s eyes light up at sight of it. She dashes towards the window, Sesame Street suitcase abandoned haphazardly in the middle of the walkway.

Scully excuses it, grabbing the handle and pulling it alongside her own. Emily presses her face against the window, amazed.

When they get outside, waiting for a taxi, Emily plays with the snow. Picking it up, crunching it into a ball- a snowball and throws it at a wall. She makes a mini snowman and only just finds the stones to use as eyes when the taxi pulls up. Emily is pouting when Scully calls her over but she drops the stones, says goodbye to the snowman and climbs into the car.

They warm up once they’re in the apartment. Scully turns the fire on and heats some milk up for Emily. A late seven hour flight has tired both of them out and Emily is drowsy on the couch, drinking from a bottle and playing with Scully’s necklace still clasped around her neck, not having taken it off since she put it on the girl. Scully wonders if she’ll ever take it off her.

She does when she’s getting Emily ready for bed. Emily has the spare room and it’s void of anything homely, the bed is too high, the sheets stiff and cold (who does she have to sleep over?) Emily fuses, telling Scully she wants to keep it on but Scully worries that she’ll choke, it’s the only reason she’s taking it off, she tells the child and places it on the bedside table waiting for Emily in the morning. Scully presses a kiss against Emily’s forehead, tells her that she’s just down the hall.

She’s getting ready for bed when the bedroom door creeps open. Emily pokes her head in around the corner, looking sorry.

“Can’t sleep…” she mumbles.

Scully smiles and holds out her hand towards the door. Emily slips in and Scully sees her clutching the cross in her tiny hand.

“The guest room too scary, huh?” Scully says, taking the cross out of Emily’s hand and placing it on _her _bedside table.

Emily nods.

“You can sleep with me tonight then we’ll get started on your room, okay?”

Emily nods again, climbing into the bed. Scully climbs in next to her and when she turns off the light and settles down, she feels Emily curl around her.

She presses a kiss to the top of her head, whispers.

“It’s okay. You’re safe with me, baby.”

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

“Dana…” Emily asks warily, tugging at her Scully’s sleeve. “Who’s that man?”

Emily cautiously eyes Mulder standing in the doorway.

“That’s Mulder, Emily,” Scully says, surprised to see Mulder herself. “You remember him from the children’s home, don’t you?”

Mulder does his Mr Potato impression and it, once again, earns a giggle out of Emily like it did the first time.

“Mr Potato,” Emily cries.

Mulder nods. “Yep, that’s me. A potato.” He pats Emily awkwardly on the head as he moves towards the kitchen.

“What are you doing here, Mulder?” Scully asks.

He shrugs. “Just to check up on you. And Emily.” He uses his head to point towards the child who’s eyes are glued on the screen in front of her. “How is she?”

“She’s good,” Scully says, looking towards Emily herself, “Put her in front of a TV and she becomes like any kid.” She smiles, thankful that some things are normal for the girl. “Whatever Calderon gave her, it worked.”

“Have you told her yet?”

Scully shakes her head, knowing what he’s alluding to.

“Do you think I should?”

Mulder shrugs again. “It’s put to you. It might help.”

“But what if she says questions? What do I tell her?” Her voice quietens to make sure Emily doesn’t hear. “I was abducted by men who are working with aliens who stole my ova so they could make alien-human hybrids. By the way, you’re part alien?”

Mulder pouts and it immediately reminds her of Emily.

“Sounds stupid when you say it.”

Scully throws him a look. “See my problem now?”

“Well…you could tell her another story.”

She frowns. “I’m not going to lie to her.”

Really, Scully didn’t know what she was going to do and hope she had the answers when it was time to cross that bridge.

“Dana, I’m hungry.”

Emily is in the doorway, looking at Mulder before her eyes move over to Scully.

“What do you want to eat?”

Emily thinks. “A sandwich? No crusts.”

“You want to help?”

Emily nods, running over as Scully grabs a chair for her to stand on.

“Is Mulder staying?” Emily asks as she puts the ham onto the bread.

Scully looks over to Mulder and he begins shaking his head.

“No, I should get back. I have fish to feed.”

“You have fish?” Emily asks, excited.

“Yeah,” Mulder chuffs. “Want to see them one day?”

“Yeah,” she’s nodding rapidly. “Tomorrow!”

“Not tomorrow,” Scully quickly rebuffs, remembering the state of Mulder’s apartment the last time she was there.

“Yeah, the fish are a bit shy. They need time to realise you’re coming.”

Emily gives him an impressive Scully look.

“Fish aren’t _shy_, silly.”

“Have you ever owned a fish?”

Emily shakes her head, smiling.

“Then you have no scientific proof.”

Emily lifts her chin, giving him her best three-year-old stare.

“I will one day,” she promises.


	9. Mulder, the baby is crying again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in the ABIF Universe but I'm not going to count it as an ABIF Series.

He knows. He can hear her mewling in her cot less than five feet away. It was probably time for her 3am feed.

He opens his eyes and meets Scully’s. She looks to have been awake for a while maybe…

“You want to give it a try?

She shakes her head. “She doesn’t want me.”

Mulder sighs and stretches. _Yeah, because you won’t even try,_ he thinks but doesn’t say then he’s met with immediate guilt at the thought. _She just needs time._

Emily’s cries get louder by the second and if he isn’t quick the whole house will be awake.

Mulder throws back the covers and makes his way over to the cot. Upon seeing him, Emily’s quietens down. He smiles, his finger coming down to stroke across her cheek.

“Hey, baby girl,” he says, bending to pick her up.

“I pumped out a bottle earlier,” Scully tells him. “It’s in the cooler.”

Emily starts rooting for her chest, as she always does, and Mulder chuckles.

“Sorry, won’t find any of that from me, kiddo.”

He opens the cooler and takes out the bottle, carrying it and Emily over to the couch.

“You should go back to sleep, Scully,” he calls softly as Emily latches onto the teat. “There’s no reason for you to be awake.”

He gets a mumbled response and the bed shifts as if she’s turned to the other side.

Mulder looks down at Emily, still tiny in his arms, her eyes closed contentedly.

He loves that he gets to share these moments with his daughter but he wishes Scully would at least try to bond with her, it’s all he’s asking for.


	10. Future On The Run Fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking of doing an on the run multi-chapter fic somepoint in the future. Consider this a sort of sneak peek to that.

This bag is packed and ready to go, everything he could fit into it with a few extra things. The sun is coming up behind the curtains, it’s time.

He looks at her one last time sprawled out in the bed in ways he never thought she would be until they started sleeping together. Simple mornings where he would wake to find her diagonal in the bed, her legs over his body, pillow askew, arms this way and that. His prim and proper Scully through the day, always toeing the line, always doing things by the book, not at night though, not when she’s sleeping.

They’re not toeing any line anymore, not doing anything from the book. Those days are gone. A new state, a new motel, razors at home, hair dye on the shelves.

I’m sorry, Scully.

Sorry for staying. Sorry for leaving.

He picks up his bag, unlocks the door and leaves.

.:.:.:.:.:.

A stretch and a yawn. A lick of her lips and a scrunch of her nose. The sun is high, peeking through the curtains and casting a yellow ray of sunlight across the bed.

She shifts, turning to her side, ready to cuddle the warmth that’s waiting her, to fall back asleep.

But it’s cold when she turns, empty, too. Her eyes immediately open. These days on the run have her becoming more paranoid each day.

What if they’ve taken him from her?

Sitting up, her eyes dart around the room and she doesn’t have to look far because Mulder is right there, sat on a chair and looking at her. Tired and dressed and looking like he has been for a while.

“Mulder?” she asks, an uncertainty pooling in her stomach. A lazy morning gone.

“Hi,” he says unenthusiastic.

“Why are you dressed?” Maybe she already knows the answer.

And when he looks to the door, it’s confirmed.

“I was going to leave,” he states so honest and truthfully.

But it just has Scully swallowing, listening.

“But I didn’t get very far.” A sigh, like he’s annoyed or something. “I got as far as down the road, sat on a bench, and decided to come back.”

“Did you want to?” she asks, scared of the answer.

He looks at her and in his eyes she can see his response.

“You don’t have to do anything for me, Mulder,” she says with a shake of her head, reading his mind.

But he sighs again, rubbing a hand over his hairy face, more hairy then she’s ever seen him before.

“I want you to go home, Scully.”

She brings the cover close to her body, his clothed body making her feel so self-conscious of her own naked one.

“I can’t do that Mulder,” she answers shaking her head.

“It’s me they want,” he tells her. “You can go.”

After nine years he still can’t see that she’s apart of this, too.

“I’m an accomplice, Mulder,” she tells him, telling him over and over again. “They want me as much as you.”

She saw the wanted posters, saw her picture next to his but he only saw his own.

He shrugs. “They might let you make a deal.”

She sighs, looking away, fighting a losing battle when something he once said comes back to her. It makes her smile despite it all.

“Your cellmates nickname is going to be Large Marge,” she says and almost immediately she sees the recognition in his eyes. “She’s going to read a lot of Gertrude Stein.”

He told her that the first time he was accused of murder, a way of telling her that she was in this just as deep as he was.

Can’t you see that now, Mulder? I can’t go back home anymore.

“The vampire,” he says with a smile.

Scully nods but that’s not the point, he knows what the point of repeating that back to him was.

He moves off of the chair, takes off his shoes and climbs into the bed pulling her towards his body. Her hands come up to his face, stroking his cheek and his eyes close.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispers.

Scully smiles, her eyes open and staring at his face.

“You won’t,” she whispers back. “I’ll always be here.” She kisses the tip of his nose, both eyelids, and his forehead.

They’re in this together like they have been since the start.


	11. can you write mulder being stuck at the uh while scully is at work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you write Mulder being stuck in the UH while Scully is at work and is sick of her telling him how other drs ask her out on dates, even after she tells them she’s not interested? Something sends him over the edge and he shows up at her office one day? I feel like that could’ve been an issue at some point- prompy by Nonny on Tumblr.

He doesn’t know what more he could say to her so eventually he stopped saying anything. He just listened, Inputting his thoughts here and there when it was necessary.

“They look at my fingers then wonder why I said no,” she tells him over dinner.

It’s Day 50, 100, 1000, Mulder doesn’t know, he stopped keeping track. Days merged into one- _don’t go here, don’t go there. Are you sure you’re going to be okay while I’m gone? It’s a long shift._ Mulder had muttered that he would be fine, internet was a wonderful thing, what a time to be stuck inside.

“You should tell them you don’t have to be married to be in a relationship,” he inputs and she looks at him with a small smile and he knows what it means; it’s a Catholic hospital, that notion is completely beyond the other doctors who work there.

Funnily enough it’s not the boredom that drives him insane, not the cabin fever, for being alone for two days, it’s that one sentence.

_Another doctor asked me on a date today, Mulder._

_Another one I had to turn down,_ he thinks.

She tells him this over breakfast, over dinner, when they’re lying in the afterglow: Another doctor asked me on a date today, Mulder.

He lies awake thinking about it, wonders what would happen if one day she said yes. Nobody knows he’s here, these doctors think he’s just an excuse. She might not return home one day, she might run away with one of these doctors, live in a city and not be two hours away from work, she could probably walk there if she wanted to or maybe get dropped off by him.

He thinks of this imaginary doctor touching her like he does, finding all spots he found three years ago and spent those three years perfecting. Would this doctor, too, naively think he was the first one to discover those spots?

He thinks about marking her in places she couldn’t hide, sending a message to her colleagues that he isn’t just an excuse, that there is someone waiting for her at home.

But maybe that wouldn’t be enough.

He lies awake thinking about it, doesn’t fall asleep. He doesn’t need to, he can sleep through the day now.

.:.:.:.:.:.

He hasn’t shaved for months, doesn’t see the point. She likes his scratchy beard and he likes it too.

He stalks the corridors like the Jersey Devil incarnate, pushing open doors a little too roughly, rounding corners a little too quickly. They eye him cautiously. It’s not his fault, he’s been deprived of another building nearing a year now. He went from being everywhere to be nowhere.

It doesn’t take him long to find her office. Her name, and her name only, on the door. It’s not in the basement but it’s close enough and it brings a smile on his face. She’ll have her own desk too, _just like you wanted Scully, remember? _

He doesn’t bother with knocking. She’s on the phone and her expression changes from one of annoyed, to surprised, to concern. She hangs up the phone.

“Mulder, you can’t be here,” she immediately tells him as she stands up.

She has blinds on her windows. _Windows, Scully! That you can look out of! You’re already doing better than I ever did. _And she goes over to close them but he stops her.

“Keep them open,” he says.

She stops in her tracks and sighs. “Mulder, what is this about?”

He doesn’t answer her, instead he’s looking out through those blinds. A man in smart clothes and a white coat is walking down the hall. _Is he one of the doctors who’s asked her out_? He wonders. He doesn’t even know if this man is a doctor, the line between reality and TV have blurred slightly after all this time.

But he isn’t about to miss out on his chance. He grabs Scully by the wrists and pulls her into him. There’s a question she’s about to ask out of surprise but he cuts her off, his lips descending upon hers. Already his tongue is trying to slip through her lips, his hand in her hair and keeping her to him. He’s never kissed her in public before, he realises. Their relationship was a secret from the FBI- they were strictly co-workers in those halls. He was gone for two years and missed out on all the kisses then and when he returned only a life of solitude welcomed him at the doors. Only kisses behind motel doors and secluded carparks when no vacancies left them with the car as their room for the night.

He’s never kissed her in public.

And he still hasn’t.

When he pulls away that doctor is gone, there’s nobody gawking at them through the window, everyone is carrying on as normal.

It feels stupid to think anyone cared enough about them to be looking.

And Scully seems to have realised what his plan was. She looks to the window and he sees the relief in her eyes when she too realises that nobody has seen them.

She smiles slightly, reaching for his hand. “Come on,” she says. “I’m going to take you home.”

She leads him out by his hand, like some lost child, and she doesn’t let go until they’ve reached the car.


	12. "you thought this was a good idea?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Send a pairing, send a prompt, and I'll write 3 sentences. Spoiler alert: 3 sentences were not written. Prompt sent by Anika (baronessblixen) on Tumblr.

You Thought This Was A Good Idea?

The rain had picked up sooner rather than later, crashing down from the clouds to bounce ankle high off the ground. It wasn’t too long before both Mulder and Scully were looking like downed rats.

A nice trip to the forest.

How many times had Mulder promised her it would be a nice trip to the forest and all it had resulted in was near death or torrential rain.

This was the last time she was believing him when it came to forests.

She was soaked to the bone, clothes sodden and hanging heavily off her body. Chilled to the bone, rain drops falling off her nose, eyeing him with animosity.

Mulder, sensing her displeasure at the whole thing, throws her an apologetic look.

“The weather forecast promised different results!” he shouts above the rain.

Scully’s annoyance subsides slightly, reminding herself that Mulder’s no Rain King, he can’t predict nor control the weather as helpful as that would be in this situation.

“How far is it to the cabin?” she asks. Currently there was no cabin in sight; nothing but trees and trees and rain and trees.

“Just up the hill.”

The cabin comes into view before too long for which Scully is incredibly grateful for. The rain hadn’t relented at all, if anything if had only gotten worse.

They scramble up the steps, seeking shelter from the downpour. The key is in a locked safe as the owner said it would be. Whilst Mulder unlocks the door, Scully takes her bag off her shoulders.

“Looking a bit wet there, Scully,” Mulder jokes, paying more attention to her than he is getting the door unlocked.

Scully forces a smile however unimpressed with his joke.

“Just get the door open so we can get the fire on,” she says, her arms wrapped around her doing nothing to stop her shivering.

The door opens after a harsh shove from Mulder, something that doesn’t make Scully feel particularly trustworthy of this little hut but she pushes it aside, it’s an old cabin after all.

The interior of the cabin is nice enough. It’s small but it will do for the two of them and for the weekend their saying there for.

Scully takes off her coat, thankful to be rid of the wet thing whilst Mulder gets started on the fire.

She’s distracted, trying to finger-comb the tangles out of her hair which only proceeds in creating more tangles. She gives up on her hair and moves to the bed, beginning to rid herself of the rest of her clothes and taking no notice of what Mulder’s doing.

“Uh, Scully…” She’s halfway through taking off her jeans when she looks up to find Mulder with another apologetic look on his face, pointing towards the fire.

“The fire doesn’t work.”

It wasn’t particularly cold in the cabin but after walking in the rain for what felt like hours they were cold.

Scully thinks of what to do.

“When the rain stops we’ll walk to the owner’s cabin. They don’t live far, they said,” Mulder tells her. The fire abandoned, he rids himself of his coat.

“For now though, we could take a shower.” There’s a suggestive tone in his voice, one which Scully is all for.

She takes it upon herself to sort the shower out while Mulder undresses. She switches on the light and proceeds to turn on the shower.

The water falls cold. She waits.

And she waits.

And she waits.

After about ten minutes the water is still cold and hopes of a hot shower has dissipated.

As the door opens and Mulder waltzes in none-the-wiser, Scully spins, arms crossed and unimpressed once more.

“The shower doesn’t work,” she tells him.

The contented look on Mulder’s face leaves instantly. He tries the shower himself but the water remains cold.

He looks at Scully and sighs audibly.

“You really thought this was a good idea?” Scully says. She shouldn’t be angry with him, it’s not his fault, but Mulder and forests don’t go well together.

He switches the shower off and grabs her hand.

“Come on,” he says pulling her out of the bathroom. “We’ll make a sleeping bag out of the duvet and cuddle till we’re warm again.”

Her mood softens slightly but tomorrow they were going home and she was booking them a holiday to somewhere warm away from forests.


	13. mulder and scully have a disagreement about pumpkin spice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Send me a pairing, send me a prompt, and I'll write 3 sentences. Again, 3 sentences were not written. Sent by ceruleanmilieu on Tumblr.

“I’m not getting you that. Choose something else.”

Scully is taken aback momentarily.

“Well…why?” she asks, completely baffled as to why he was denying getting her that drink.

“Because it’s basic, Scully.”

She scoffs. That’s barely an argument.

“Not to mention Pumpkin Spice is an Autumn drink. We’re in the middle of August.”

Scully just rolls her eyes. A drink is a drink whether in Summer or in Autumn. The point was, he asked her what drink she wanted and she wants Pumpkin Spice.

She starts unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Get a coffee or something. Something simple.”

“I’ll just get my own drink.” She grabs her pursue out of her bag and opens the car door.

“Fine,” Mulder shouts to her as she begins walking towards the coffee shop. “But don’t think you’re getting back in this car if you come out holding that drink.”


	14. You're The One I Want To Share 3am With

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rain King fic. One-Bed Trope. Scully is woken up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little ficlet that invaded my brain when I was writing Baby Cries.

She wakes with a start.

What woke her up, Scully is unsure but when she turns her head to the side, half the room is bathed in a orange glow from the bedside lamp.

“Hey,” says Mulder. He’s sitting upright, yesterday’s newspaper folded in his hand, pen in his mouth. He looks to be wide awake.

“What’s a five letter word for _burn with hot water_? I would say _ouch_ but that’s only four.”

Her brain barely recognises that he’s asking her a question. She just groans at him and tries to look through eyes that don’t seem to open fully. Scully turns back onto her side, adjusting herself into a comfortable position, shutting her eyes, intending on falling back to sleep.

But Mulder seems to have other ideas.

“Scald!” he suddenly exclaims, rushing to write it down. “And that was no help from you, Scully.”

Scully sighs in frustration. Despite how tired she is, with a light on, she isn’t about to fall back asleep any time soon. She huffs and kicks the covers off her body, hoisting herself up into a sitting position.

“What time is it?” she asks, the alarm clock on his side.

He’s still to engrossed in his puzzle.

“Just after 3,” he says. “My favourite time.”

She looks over at him. “Why?”

“Listen,” Mulder says, bringing his attention away from the paper finally. He holds the pen in the air, still and silent.

Scully listens, wondering what it is she’s meant to be hearing.

“Exactly,” Mulder says as if hearing her thoughts. “Everything goes quiet at this time.”

With his attention away from the newspaper, he seems to have realised that she is actually awake and sitting up. Guilt appears across his face.

“Did I wake you?”

Scully looks towards the light but she doesn’t think that woke her. She shakes her head.

“Guess I just can’t sleep,” she’s says glumly.

“Anything I can help with?”

She shakes her head then is about to ask him to switch the TV on when Mulder throws the pen and paper down on the bed and climbs out.

She watches him with curiosity as he walks over to the desk. He comes back, holding out the day before yesterday’s paper.

“I was gonna do the wordsearch in it next,” he says. “But if you can’t sleep, you can do it.”

Scully takes the paper from him, and the pen he also hands her way and smiles.

“Thank you, Mulder.”

He shrugs as if it’s no big deal.

“There’s no one else I want to share 3am with.”


End file.
